


let the cat out of the bag

by captain_emmajones



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Or Is he?, he isn't pleased, hook finds a cat in his quarters, hopefully it will make some of you happy as well, i have no excuse for writing this except i wanted to make carpedzem happy, set during the missing year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:47:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27914017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_emmajones/pseuds/captain_emmajones
Summary: Set during the missing year and expands until somewhere during season 3 B.Pirates don’t have pets. Hell, Captain Hook -- terror of the High Seas -- does not have pets. So what happens when a devilish black kitten jumps aboard the Jolly Roger once Hook has taken it back from Blackbeard?
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 24
Kudos: 63





	let the cat out of the bag

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carpedzem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpedzem/gifts).



> Happy Sunday!
> 
> Enjoy this piece of fluff. All mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Much love, 
> 
> Amy.

At first, he believes they’re rats. He isn’t pleased about it. 

“Mr Smee, I seem to recall I asked you to make sure there weren't any living creatures aboard this ship.” 

He isn’t quite sure why, but Smee flushes a bright pink and starts stammering. 

“...And I did, Captain, I did b-but --”

Killian Jones is a man of many things, but one of patience he isn’t. 

“-- but what, Mr Smee? I don’t think it is that arduous to take care of such matters.” His words come out like sharp, drawn blades and threaten to slash his first mate’s round cheeks. “But if it is, I’ll make sure to ease you of this task.” 

And he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth for good measure. 

“I -- I will do everything I can, Captain.” 

A smirk. “Let’s just hope that is enough, Mr Smee.” 

. 

But the thing is, it doesn’t bloody stop. The vermin keeps pestering him. 

Hook wakes up to open doors, cannot stroll down the deck of the Jolly Roger without seeing a shadow run along with him, until, until --

“Now, what are _you_ doing here?” 

The troublemaker stands on top of his bed, on all fours, green eyes sparkling in the orange light of this late afternoon and seems quite ready to roar at his very face.

A petulant _meow_ answers him. 

.

“MISTER SMEE.” 

He is furious, of course. Smee, however, thinks -- maybe, all things considered -- the plank isn’t so bad.

“I can explain every-everything, Captain…”

“I want none of your explanations, Mr Smee. I want you to get rid of _this_.” 

A very indignant _meow_ echoes on the ship. 

“It must have gotten on the ship when we took it back from Blackbeard, Captain, and I hadn’t noticed for a while but then I could hardly throw him in the waters…” 

A deep, guttural groan. 

“As soon as we reach port, this thing is out of my ship. Have I made myself clear, Mr Smee?” 

“A-abundantly clear, Captain.” 

.

When he goes back to his cabin that night, stomach full and mind lulled by rhum, he doesn’t exactly expect to see the small nuisance lying comfortably on his bed, very much at ease indeed. 

The thing is staring at him with its big, green eyes, and Hook frowns. 

“Those are my quarters. Get out.” 

Another impish _meow_ answers him. If it could, Hook is convinced it would raise an eyebrow at him. 

Another sigh of discontent. “I said get out of my bed. Now.” And as he stretches his hand to push the kitten out-of-the-way, it simply raises his head and meets its palm in approval. 

Hook’s eyes widen. “Do you think I’m that easily charmed?” And as if to assert that _yes, most absolutely, he is that easily charmed,_ the small cat purrs against his hand and licks his skin. 

And Hook suddenly wonders why the hell he is letting this happen. 

Clearing his throat, his hand closes over the small, black body and drops it onto the floor. 

“There, and do not come to bother me anymore.” 

A _meow_ echoes in the night. 

.

He wakes up to something fluffy tingling against his cheek and that alone rings an alarm in his head and causes his eyes to shoot open. 

“What the hell…” but the end of his sentence dies as the small vermin stares at him, and seems to s m i l e at him. 

Hook groans. “Get out of here,” he mumbles, and pushes the kitten to the side. 

And he does not want to ponder over how gently he actually urged the cat to disappear nor does he want to think about the little, warm bubble swelling comfortably inside his chest (next to the _big_ bubble of annoyance, of course). 

.

The cat has been on the ship with them for two weeks when they finally reach port and can get rid of him. In the meantime, he has settled his quarters in Hook’s room.

“I see the kitten is quite fond of you, Captain?” 

“Do you want to find out if the bloody plank is fond of you, Mr Smee?” 

“N-no, of course, Captain, no.” 

To prevent him from sleeping in his bed, Hook settled an old bed cover in the farthest corner of his room -- since the bloody thing won’t be kept out of it anyway. 

“There, and don’t you move, you devil.” 

He starts to call it _that_ , in his head, the kitten: devil. It suits him well. And it makes it sound more piratey than kitten anyway. 

He doesn’t utter the words aloud. Would rather walk the bloody plank himself. Pirates don’t have pets. 

“Since I can’t trust you to take care of vermines on this ship, I’ll get rid of the bloody thing myself.” 

And as his crew pillages and plunders a nearby village, Hook ventures out of his ship, the little devil gesticulating down in his satchel. 

He isn’t even jealous of the lost opportunity. He hasn’t felt like pillaging and plundering in a while, now. Not since he left Storybrooke, not since the red-headed mermaid visited him and he -- 

Hook sighs and sits down, near the port, on a bench. His legs feel heavy as stone. He takes out of his satchel his flask of rum, and the little devil, and puts both of them down next to him. 

“Don’t move,” he hisses but the small thing instead decides to stretch at his leisure in front of his nose. 

“You’re one for mutiny, aren’t you?” 

A cheerful _meow_ answers him. And Hook’s lips curve up, just the slightest bit, before he catches himself and frowns furiously. 

“I’m going to leave you here, you understand that?” 

But the bloody thing apparently cares little for his words, and proceeds instead to climb up his lap and settles himself comfortably against Hook’s stomach. 

It is his stomach’s turn to do a weird leaping thing then, as he squares his jaws and bites the interior of his mouth. 

There’s been so much loss, hasn’t it? Perhaps he is allowed a little company. Perhaps the journey doesn’t have to be this hard, perhaps he does not have to suffer until the ends of time. 

“You don’t want to leave me, do you?” 

Other, _human_ , green eyes linger behind Killian’s eyelids, savagely tear his heart apart, because _she_ left. 

A _meow_ echoes in the night, and Hook’s fingers reluctantly find the warm, black fur and sieve through it. 

“You are one bloody hell of a devil, you know that?” 

. 

Pirates may not have pets, but lonely souls do need company, don’t they? 

When Hook strides back to the ship that night, and frees the small thing on the lower deck, Smee, at least, has the decency of keeping his mouth shut. 

“Make one comment, Mr Smee, and you walk the bloody plank.” 

“Y-yes, Captain.” 

.

Sharing his quarters has a lot of cons, if you’d ask Hook. 

Such as cleaning his clothes of the devil’s hair, or making sure the small thing has enough to eat and drink, or waking up to it stretched across his bloody face.

But mostly, Hook does think the company is enjoyable. His partner does not speak, purrs at best, and seems to have some supernatural inkling for knowing when his Captain is feeling a bit...aloof, to put it like that. 

Hook’s convinced the bloody thing is actually magic, but that he won’t ever tell no living soul. 

.

When he gives up the Jolly Roger, Hook finds two green eyes staring at him. 

“I cannot take you with me to Emma, you understand? I don’t even know if animals survive portals.” 

A _meow_ answers him, and for the first time Hook thinks it is full of grief. 

Something stings, in Hook’s chest, as he waves goodbye to his crew and drops the cat into Smee’s arms. 

“I’ll take care of him, Captain.” 

“I know you will.” 

And when Hook turns back, walks away, he ignores as well as he can this strange, new kind of itching rattling his insides. 

.

Back in Storybrooke, Hook figures just to what extent Mr Smee is not a man for subtlety. 

He basically throws the damn demon into his arms, on the docks, where everyone can bloody see them.

“What the hell are you doing, Mr Smee?” 

Hook does not acknowledge the joy that swirls around his legs as the small thing purrs against him. 

“Giving you back what is yours. I can’t take it any longer, he is insufferable.” 

And Hook is ready to attack right back, as the demon nibbles his fingers with a cheerful fervor, but then the worst happens. 

  
_Emma._

Emma is striding towards him, with Henry, and he has a bloody kitten in his arms. 

“Didn’t know you were one to have pets…” she attacks right then, Smee long gone, and the small devil very much settled in the crook of his arm.

Hook gulps down, almost frozen. Later, he’ll wonder why he did not put him down. That would have saved him some embarrassment. 

“It’s not what you think, Swan.” 

“Isn’t it?” she smirks, and then -- because things can always get worse -- she bends down towards the little devil and scratches between his ears. 

But then she is smiling that very rare smile and Hook starts to think perhaps the little devil isn’t such a nuisance anymore. 

“What’s his name?” she asks, and the things _purrs_ , goddamn _purrs_ under her touch, and Hook feels utterly betrayed. 

“It doesn’t have a name,” he echoes right back, mock-indignant. 

She raises her eyes towards him, quirks one eyebrow. It has a terrible effect on Hook’s heart rate. 

“Come on, don’t lie. All pets have names.” 

“No. Not this one. Actually, it’s not a pet.” 

“Oh yeah, then what is it?” 

The devil purrs. 

“It's merely an animal that got lost on my ship during the missing year, is all.” 

Emma’s smirking, again. And Hook isn’t blushing. 

“Let's call you Sparrow, then.” 

Something revolts inside Hook. _It isn’t his name._

“Sparrow? And why the bloody hell is that?” 

“Because Captain Jack Sparrow” echoes Henry on reaching them, giving up his video game to devote his attention to the small cat. 

Bloody hell. 

.

As things turn out, Emma never lets him live it down and everyone in Storybrooke knows Captain Hook’s cat, Sparrow, lives with him at Granny’s. 

“I have a no-pet-policy, Hook, but for your pretty eyes I’ll make an exception.”

Hook swallows down a list of elaborate insults and plasters a smile on his face. “Why, thank you, Granny.” 

One night, however, the bloody thing isn’t to be found in his room and Captain Hook does _not_ worry about cats but he does stare out his window impatiently, trying to get a glimpse of a black furry tail -- not that he’d admit it.

But then something quite unlikely happens. Someone knocks on the door while he’s showering. 

A towel around his hips, Hook opens to find Emma Swan in her pajamas, Sparrow comfortable between her arms. 

If Hook’s heart skips multiple beats, it does please him to see Emma’s eyes widen and her cheeks flush as she takes in his state of undress. 

“I’m-- I’m…” she begins, has a very hard time coming up with words, it seems, and then exhales sharply: “I found your cat in my room. Under my bed. Which is why it took me so long to find him, actually.” 

Hook smirks. “That’s a plausible excuse for visiting me at night, Swan, but next time don’t stand on ceremony.” 

She turns even redder, if that is possible, and that sight alone is priceless.

“Right,” she begins, smiling, “There you go.” And she gently drops the little devil between his arms, her touch sending electric trails all over his skin. 

Hook gulps down as he notices how close they’ve gotten and he is tempted to bend down but that would be too much, wouldn’t it? 

Instead he smiles, swallows down, and watches as she gazes back and forth between his eyes and his lips. 

“Thank you, Swan,” he finally exhales and he watches as she seems to come to her senses, bites her lips and backs away. 

“No problem. ‘Night, Hook.” 

“Goodnight, Emma.” 

When he closes the door behind him, Sparrow is standing on his bed, green eyes open. 

“I’ll admit that was quite a good idea, thank you mate.” 

A _meow_ of contentment answers him, as if to say: _but you are most welcome._

  
  
  



End file.
